


On That Rainy Evening

by JustAWritist



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chance Meetings, M/M, Short One Shot, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 16:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2355185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAWritist/pseuds/JustAWritist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We all have our stories, that much we realize. What we don't realize is that the person next to us has a story as well. We don't realize and we don't care. But... What if we did care? What if we took the chance to turn our heads and ask,<br/>"So, what's your story?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	On That Rainy Evening

**Author's Note:**

> I've always liked the idea of a chance encounter... So this has been in my mind for a while. Especially because it's something I think about often, as some of the relationships that I've been most grateful for are, in fact, developed off of chance, luck, and a slight turn of the head.

I suppose that in the end, it didn't really matter much. It wouldn't change my life for the better, or for that matter for the worse. The rain would pour on just the same, pattering pitifully away against the multicolored tarp above my head. The red and yellow alternating stripes unrelenting and unmoving. It didn't really matter, it didn't really affect me... Maybe, just maybe, if I tell myself that enough times, it'll come true. I should be happy for her, I should be happy that Mikasa is moving away from our dinky little two person apartment. She's my sister, and I should be happy that she's moving on from me. Yet at the same time I find myself inexplicably lonely.

Hah, I must've acted like a jerk, saying that she can't, yelling at her in accusations of how I'll pay the rent once she leaves for her new job, for her new life. Shit, you just can't shut up, huh, Jaeger?  
Damn.

I sigh, a white tendril of noise that rises visibly into the air and curls around the biting winter cold that's gnawing at my ankles. I forgot to put on socks. And... I really should have grabbed a warmer jacket before storming out like that. I give a little shiver, as if trying to shake off the cold. The cold clings to my back like an annoying kid asking for a piggyback ride. It wraps its arms against the scarf on my neck and yells at me to get moving. Go on, Eren! Go! I want to move! Let's go! Ugh, the cold is so annoying. I rub my hands together in front of me and start walking, after I exit the protection of the overhang by our apartment, the water droplets begin to splash against my face and hair. They plaster my pants against my legs and make it uncomfortable to walk, as the fabric rubs and agitates my skin. A man in a tight business suit rushes by me, bumping into my shoulder and jostling me as he goes. His suitcase is held over his head as some protection from the light rain, and he continues to run past. Jesus, some people are so rude. I exhale through my nose, two wisps dance into the air and entwine with each other like lovers starting a waltz, until they're broken apart by the jealous rain, that is. I'm broken from my reverie by the sound of a bell and a strange wash of warmth, like somebody threw a bucket of hot water on my back. I turn and see a man and a lady unfolding an umbrella in front of a small cafe. I look up at the sign, two french words pop out at me. The only one I recognize is Pan, bread, from when Armin, my best friend studied french for a semester. I think I have my wallet with me, I reach into my back pocket. Yes, it's damp but it's there. I step up the warm orange light that exits from the door and open it, the jingle of a bell reaches my ears.

I walk up to the bakery and shuffle around on my feet while looking at the assortment of pastries. The smell is almost overwhelming. It's so sweet, it makes my mouth water. The freshly baked bread smell gives off a homely feel and the orange light makes the place seem warm and welcoming. I'm surprised I've never been here... Well, it's not that surprising, I didn't go out much except for when... well... I don't really want to remember that right now.

"Got caught out by surprise, eh?" The man behind the counter addresses me and I look up with a surprised glance. He's got a balding head, just a few tufts of black stubble here and there to give it some shading. His eyes are like the light of the cafe, warm and welcoming. What stands out most about him is his smile, it's large and toothy, takes up half his face and makes his square jaw get crease lines in it. The corners of his cheeks seem to pull back to his large ears and his teeth are straight, slightly yellow, but straight and welcoming. His eyebrows go up and it gives his entire face this look of openness, like a father figure. I look back down to the pastries.

"Uh... Yeah, something like that." I answer, He leans forward and points to one of the pastries next to the one I was currently observing, his hands are large, they cover the pastry above, and small callouses make them look uneven.

"This one's especially good for a rainy evening, goes well with hot chocolate. I was just thinking of having one myself." He tells me. The pastry he's pointing to seems to be made of a light, flaky break, white frosting laces the top in a snake-like pattern, and I can see strawberry jam squishing out of a small hole, along with a bit of chocolate. I press my lips together, it looks good, and I'm hungry.

"Sure, sounds... good." I answer, he nods and leans back from the glass case, I move up to the register where a lady with dark brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and flat features sits on a stool. The man hands her a small tray with a steaming white cup and the pastry on a plate. She sets the plate in front of me.

"10.50." She states, and I reach back to grab my wallet again, I pull out a ten and a one and hand them to her. She puts them away and hands me back fifty cents. I take the coins and slip them into my wallet before grabbing the tray and taking it to a table by the window in the corner. It faces the street where I came from. I sit down and pick up the pastry with my hands. I take a bite into it and realize that it wasn't white frosting, but white chocolate drizzled on top. It's good... It's really good.

Time passes in the form of the cat-shaped clock on the far wall, I sip at my cup of cocoa and stare outside as the rain has slowed to a drizzle. I exhale and my breath forms a small white circle. Most of the cafe is empty by now, and the sky has darkened with time. The cafe throws golden light on what appears to be almost bluish concrete. I sigh and the last few wisps of steam that come from the cooling cup curl around, and then fade away slowly. I set the almost empty cup down and rest my head in my palm, staring outside.

I wonder if Mikasa's worried about me? I wonder if she knows that I'm safe... I should probably call her, but I left my phone at home. Well, she probably isn't. She knows how I can get. Hell, even I know how I can get. And when I recognize that something's wrong with me, it means that something's really wrong with me. I hear the jingle of the bell and another person exits the cafe. I watch as the solitary person leaves the cafe, a pleased smile on their face. They don't know, none of the strangers that have come and gone know or understand what's happening to me and what it means to me. They must all lead happy lives. Quiet, content lives in which they live day to day, never having to bear any weight or understanding things that I've been forced to understand. Things that I would've been better off being ignorant about. There's so much I wish I didn't know that I simply do. Mikasa understands, she knows the same things that I do. Mainly because she's been through the same things I've been through. If she leaves... If she leaves...

If she leaves then I'm alone.

My eyelids drop, I don't want to think about this right now. So I won't.

I'm awoken by the ringing of the bell again, I jolt slightly and open my eyes, looking up at whose entering. The cafe is nearly empty by now, and my cups cooled to room temperature. The man behind the counter with the kind face smiles and greets the one who just walked in. It's a short man with cropped black hair. He looks around, and I can see that his features are pinched, his eyes almost like he's squinting just the tiniest bit, but at the same time his features are very delicate. His eyes meet mine and, although I expect him to look away like most strangers do, instead he simply glares at me. Surprised, I stubbornly hold his stare. Who the hell does he think he is anyway? Does he have some kind of problem with me? We stay, locked in some form of a staring competition, or glaring competition, before he eventually turns away and goes to the register to order something or another. People are terrible, but some are worse than others.

I finish my cup of cocoa and set it down against the tray. I tap the edges with my fingers, I didn't really want to get up. Even if there are only about four people in this cafe now, I didn't really want to move, to go home. Maybe I could crash with Armin? No... He was at that special program overseas wasn't he? What was it for again? Ugh, I can't remember. That's when the chair across from me gets pulled back and somebody is sitting in it. I look up and see the short man with the pointed features. Confused, I sit there for a moment, he sips at his coffee.

"Hello?" I ask it like a question. What I really want to ask is what he thinks he's doing. He simply glances up at me, sighs, and goes back to the much more interesting coffee.  
"What do you think your doing?" There, it's out there. I said it and I won't take it back.

"The way you looked at me annoyed me." His response was short, curt. What was up with this?

"Well, the same goes for me." I grumble, this guy was the one who glared at me first. I shouldn't have to take shit for it. This was not my day.

"I don't want to be looked at like that by somebody as messy as you." He replies. What? Messy? Sure, my room wasn't the most orderly but I wouldn't call myself messy. His eyes look disgustedly at my plate before the flick back to the interior of the cafe. I glance at my plate, sure there are a few crumbs here and there but it was a flaky pastry. I'm not the one to blame here, blame french food. I feel my neck heat up, I won't take insults, not today.

"Oh and I bet your just the cleanliest person in the world, huh?" I counter, gripping my white cup until my knuckles turn a similar color.

"I am." He answers simply. "You should learn some fucking respect." He curses, his brows curving down as his lips drag downward into a scowl as he drinks.

"I'm not the only one." I grumble, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms over my chest. The man glares at me from the corners of his eyes.

"So what crawled up your ass and got stuck there?" I almost choked when he said this. Honestly, who was this guy?

"I don't know what you mean." I said, my face contorting in an expression of confusion.

"Unless you're simply this annoying and irritable normally, I'm guessing that something happened. So what is it? What's your story?" He asked, turning his body to face me and setting the cup he was drinking down on the table. A moment of silence passed between us while the steam from his cup created a bit of a barrier between us, as we stared past the gaze at each other.

"Why do you want to know?" I asked, he shrugged.

"I work in the newspaper business, reporters are known for being fucking nosy and I guess it rubbed off on me." He said simply.

"You're a reporter?" I asked, he sighed.

"Do I look like one?" Then followed it up with, "On second thought, don't answer that. I'm not a reporter, I'm the editor." He answered. Oh, okay, well then.

"Oh." I say, the conversation becoming more casual and in a weird way that made it more awkward for me. I wanted to hate the guy, but it was hard to when the conversation wasn't exactly unfriendly. On the other hand he seemed to know how uncomfortable I was by his smug look, he was completely comfortable with my uncomfortableness. "What newspaper?"

"The Maria." He answers. Never heard of it.

"Who reads it?" I ask, chatter between the friendly cafe worker and the new costumer fills the background.

"According to our latest polls, fifty to sixty year old women and eighteen year old boys for god knows why." He sighs, as if disappointed by the polls, as if they were unsatisfactory.

"That's a strange combination." I state, he looks at me with an expression as if to say 'you don't say?'. Silence dominates our conversation again.

"So what happened?" He repeated. I played with the crumbs on my plate, earning a detested look on his part.

"My sister's moving out of our apartment." I shrug, there was another tick of silence, and the ring of a bell as one last patron enters the cafe.

"That's bad?" He phrased it like a question.

"Yes!" I say with exasperation, as if it were obvious, "if she leaves then how else will I pay the rent? My part time job isn't enough to pay it in full!"

"And?" He asks,

"And...?" I echo.

"There's something else, isn't there? Or is that it?" He asks. I sit, stunned for a minute, as he casually lifts his coffee cup and drinks from it. As if this is completely normal for him, as if this encounter is nothing but a rainy evening pleasantry between friends.

"Yeah... There's more..." I sigh, slumping back in my seat, "If she's gone, then I'm alone. There's nobody else who will understand..." I trail off there, I wasn't in the mood to share my life history with a stranger.

"Holy shit, do I have to force everything out of you? Understand what? Just fucking get it out already." The man was obviously becoming impatient with me. I gave him an irritated glare.

"Your not exactly the most comforting person to be sharing this with." I state, he lays his head against one of his hands.

"Listen, we all have our stories, that much we realize. What we don't realize is that the person next to us has a story as well. We don't realize and we don't care. So I'm sorry if I'm not the most comforting person to share your story with, but at least I fucking care. At least enough to ask. And, here, you're not going to get much better than that unless your really fucking lucky. So if you want to keep it all bottled up and be all moody and secretive, great. Good fucking job. But I'm giving you a chance to share your story here. So go ahead, your choice." Once he's finished, he gestures for me to go ahead, and waits. When I don't reply, he mutters something that sounds similar to 'well then' and finishes his coffee. He stands up and pushes his chair in. He walks over to where the rest of the cups are stacked up and places it there. Its then that I realize that he's leaving. Suddenly, an urge builds up in me. An urge to not let him leave, to share my story with a person whose name I don't even know. An urge to be able to say that somebody actually cared about me enough to listen to my story. I yell a short, incoherent word of halting, but he's already heading towards the door. I scramble up, pushing in my chair and tossing my tray over with the rest, I then follow him outside and leave the warmth of the cafe, once again I am submerged in the cold air that bites at my cheeks, turning them a bright pinkish red. I look to the left, no luck, then to the right, and see that he's walking away. I run after him quickly and call out for him to stop. The rain is but a light haze causing a misty effect on the world around, as if looking through a light, wavering fog. He stops and turns and I catch up quickly.

 

"My name is Eren... Jaeger. Eren Jaeger. I live with my sister Mikasa, except she's not really my sister." I start, I don't know whats come over me but the urge to explain everything, even just once in my life, to say what I've always thought nobody wanted to hear but what I've wanted to share, has come over me. And I can't stop, and I don't want to stop. "She's really my best friend but her parents were killed when the taxi that they were in drove into a tree, she was standing in their driveway, watching it happen because it happened a few feet from her house, and they were coming home from a business trip. My family took her in and I hated seeing her so sad. She became my sister and instead of being a good friend and letting her rely on me, I relied on her. I fucking relied on her when she should've been the one relying on me." Already I feel something pricking at my eyes. No way am I going to cry already. "She became my sister, maybe she already was, I don't know. Then... Then..." My voice breaks and I suck in a breath in a loud sob, embarrassingly loud, my face flushes red with heat and I feel the first tear roll down my cheek, followed by another, and then another. "Then my mom was killed, murdered. Right in front of us. She was a teacher, it was bring your kid to school day but one of the students brought a gun and there was a shooting and they shot her. They shot her right in front of us. Who does that?" I sob again, my face is drenched and the light rain has begun to make my clothes sag against my body. I wipe at my nose and continue, "I would have been alone, I would have felt alone, but Mikasa was there. She'd had her parents die in front of her, so she understood. She understood and so I wasn't alone. And my dad... he might as well have died in front of me as well, he crumbled... He was gone and he never was the same as before. At first it was just like his mind was absent, like he never thought. Then, one year ago, he hit me and Mikasa, he just snapped and then crumbled. He abandoned us, and we had to live on our own. But we weren't alone. I had Mikasa and so I wasn't alone..." I was fully sobbing now, barely able to get a full sentence out and unsure if he even understood my mangled words. "But now... Now I'm going to be alone. Now Mikasa is leaving, moving away, and I'll be alone." I finish, hiccuping at the end of my sentence. Realizing how I must've looked, I quickly turned my head down, my face flushed, and started wiping angrily at my eyes and nose. There was a moment of silence, only hid with my occasional sniffs and once by the ring of the bell as one of the last few costumers from the cafe we had exited left behind us. They walked past us and glanced at the strange sight of myself and the man who I'd met at the cafe. Instead of stopping to ask what was wrong, they sped up their pace a bit, though their eyes lingered on myself for a moment. They weren't interested in my story.

It stayed like that for a split second more, then the man steps forward, and offers me a sort of one-armed side-hug.  
"Your face is too damn dirty for me to hug you." He states, as if that were reason to the awkwardness of the hug. Then he lets go and steps back. "There, so that's your story." He states simply. I nod

"Yeah, that's my story..." I realize that I still don't even know the man's name. "What's yours?" I ask. The man clicks his tongue.

"You're wallowing like a child from your own emotional heave and you already want another, what kind of imbecile are you?" He sighs, "Ask me again later, the next time we meet, then I'll tell you." He says as if we're old friends who see each other regularly... Well, maybe a little harsher than that, but the context seems the same.

"But... I don't even know your name." I point out, the man gives it some thought.

"Buy my paper, we could use the funds. My name should be on the back page." He says, I blink, then I smile.

"Alright, I will." I agree, the man does something highly surprising then, he smiles. A soft kind of smile that seems so very sweet and considerably softens his pointed features. It surprises me, he doesn't look half bad when he smiles.

"Good, now go home and get yourself cleaned up." He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, which flops against his forehead again, soaked down by the rain from how long we've been standing here, "I'll find you and give you my medical bills if I get sick because you took too fucking long to chose to finally open up." He states, and with that he begins to leave again. Part of me doesn't want him to leave just yet, but the other part knows that he will, and is okay with that because he's given me the chance to talk, to tell my story to someone. I want to thank him but he's already far down the sidewalk, and about to turn the corner. Instead I whisper my thanks and it takes the form of the white steam that dances through the rain. Then I turn on my heels, and begin to walk home.

The next day, I find myself at the market searching for a newspaper called The Maria. Mikasa had stayed up, worried about me and inquiring as to why I was home late, and why my face was red and why it looked like I'd been crying. I told her all that happened, and she offered to not leave. But I knew I couldn't hold her back anymore, that I needed to stop relying on her, so I told her it was okay to go, that I'd find a job, maybe even a new roommate, and told her to go. Now she was leaving on Saturday, and I was looking for a magazine that appealed to boys my age, and fifty year old women.

Oh, there it is. I pick up The Maria, displaying proudly several different names. I want to flip to the back immediately, but instead I buy the paper first and head to the little french cafe with golden light. I stand outside and wait for a few minutes, perhaps some part of me thinks that I'll run into him again. I wait, rocking back and forth on my heels for about half an hour, according to my watch. Then my impatience gets ahold of me, and I unfold the paper, flipping it around to the back. There, in small but bold letters, much like the man himself, is the word 'Editor' and the name.

Levi.

Sounds french.

I like it.

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoy writing while listening to music, so if anyone else likes writing and listening to music, here's what I listened to while writing this:
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vCYk9CRx0g8
> 
> Also french songs
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jo9r9oNqOtc  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AjjdR_mDvwA
> 
> I just love the songs here so I thought that it would be fun to share them.


End file.
